


The Ugly Duckling

by lynxlarabellows



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternae Reality, Baby Swan, Captain Swan - Freeform, Episode Related, Episode: s03e21 Snow Drifts, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Magical Realism, Protectiveness, Trust, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynxlarabellows/pseuds/lynxlarabellows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barely managing not to be drawn through the time portal at the last minute, Emma experiences an unforeseen consequence of her own inherent magic mingling with the time magic. Still just a lost little girl trying to find a place to call home, Emma must learn to trust the people around her in order to survive, but how can she trust the people who are lying to her constantly? She struggles to make sense of it all, all the while hoping she might even find the home she desperately longs for along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ugly Duckling

City life had always been relatively simple.

People were always flooding the sidewalks in masses while hundreds of cars sped by and congested the streets. Men and women had their occupations and errands to contend with, children had their own problems with school, and it was all a very routine life. Everything was taken on a schedule and everyone was far too blinded by their personal needs and desires to care much about anyone else. It was easy enough to get lost in the crowd and disappear when needed.

Unfortunately the city was thousands of miles in the rear view mirror now, and Storybrook, Maine could never possibly be misconstrued as a city. It was a small, interdependent community full of people who had known each other their whole lives. They had an intimate knowledge of these lands, knew the streets, the alleyways, the forest… it was their home. It was peaceful here at the moment, and peace something that the city and even this town usual lacked, but right now it was needed.

There was something unbelievably soothing about the gentle cadence of the water that ran beneath the restored bridge in the park. It had been refurbished in recent years, soft grass covering a large portion of the area, brand new playground equipment, benches to overlook the quiet estuary that stemmed from the bay, and a beautiful array of shrubbery and flowers that attracted butterflies and the soft twittering of nature. It was a lovely sight to behold, almost something out of a fairytale.

Emma Swan sat alone in the center of it all, the bench situated in one of the less populated areas of the park. She had not wanted to chance meeting anyone out here, her mind still troubled with the conversation held earlier in front of everyone. She had too much to think about and just wanted to be alone for a while and no matter how desperately she tried, even the tranquility of her surroundings could not seem to sooth the chaos brewing in her mind.

This sanctuary was beginning to become a commonplace. Emma had been coming here for a while now whenever something was troubling her; she had been coming here quite a bit recently considering the just how often that occurred. Nothing was certain anymore, if it had ever been. Her whole existence felt off kilter, tipped on the axis, and now after a fabricated lifetime spent with her son, she was having trouble differentiating the truths from the lies.

Perhaps that was the real problem. Her entire life had been a lie. Not just starting from a year ago, but from the day she had been found on the side of that highway. She owed her identity to an old blanket and a storybook about a lost baby swan. She didn’t know who she was anymore. People kept expecting her to do great things, but how could she be their savior when she couldn’t even save herself? She was the lie.

A combination of buzzing and shrill ringing interrupted the serenity, pulling Emma out of her confused and depressive thoughts for a moment. She reluctantly reached into her pocket and extracted the device, staring down at the name and the picture flashing across the screen. It was David; of course it was. Her biological father had a tendency to be the first to call. He worried constantly over her, despite the fact that she was probably only four years younger than him. It was a complicated situation, but the man tried so hard to insert himself into her life.

Emma nearly accepted the call. Something inside of her was urging it in fact, but in the end cowardice won out. She was not ready to talk just yet, not with someone she had considered a friend more than a father, not with anyone. She just needed a few minutes to herself, to sort through this mess in her head. She pulled her legs up onto the bench she was sitting on and stared out ahead of her until the call eventually stopped.

It had been less than fifteen minutes since the confrontation at the diner. This was supposed to be a joyous day. Everyone was gathered at _Granny’s_ to celebrate the birth of a prince. She should be there too, because that was her baby brother. It was her _family_ , a family which had been broken and distorted for too long, and now it was becoming whole again without her there. She had never been a part of it anyway, not truly. She was the outsider, the city girl in a small town.

No one was supposed to know just yet, about her intention to return to New York. She had tried to keep it quiet since their latest victory only days before. She kept procrastinating though, pushing it back because everything was still a mess, and she wanted to wait until everyone could acclimate to having a small, dependent little life to care for before breaking the news. Nothing ever went to plan though, not here in this place.

Henry had been searching for apartments. Emma wanted to laugh bitterly, because there was a perfectly fine apartment waiting for them back in the city. All of their possessions were there, all of their friends were there, all just waiting for their return… their whole life was in that apartment. Her son wanted to stay here in Storybrook. She understood the desire. It had been her own wish for a while too, and even now she had doubts about her decision to leave, but she couldn’t stay here in this place.

The phone started up again, persistent in the attempt to reach her, but Emma was just so _tired_. She had put on a genuine smile for the first time in weeks upon first meeting her baby brother, but now that she was alone she was faced with the cold hard truth that she did not belong here. She had never belonged here. No one should be worrying about her right now, not when they had a life to celebrate, and she wanted to postpone the inevitable conversation for as long as possible. She inhaled slowly and rejected the call, sending it straight to voicemail, and looked out to the calm water once more.

Emma had to make a choice that was best for her and her son. Eventually the others would come to understand that. This place… it was just too dangerous here. They would never be safe so long as they stayed here; they would always be in danger. There was really no choice to make. The city might have high crime ratings, but at least there were no wicked witches or dragons there. In order to be safe, they had to leave. It was as simple as that.

Intent footfalls upon the gravel path alerted her to someone approaching moments before the soft claim came. “You’re making a mistake.”

Emma closed her eyes briefly as the familiar voice washed over her. She glanced at him briefly, taking in the tall figure clad in the customary dark apparel. His voice never failed to stir something in her, the accented lilt both rugged and gentle at the same time, always asking after her or questioning her motives. She had come to think of him as her own shadow lately. She’d tried to ignore him most of the time, but he had a way of getting beneath her skin.

It was easier to ignore him when he had just been Captain Hook. That particular fairytale had never been one of her favorites. He had been a rogue back then, an outrageous villain that flirted relentlessly and held some sort of vague attraction, but ultimately only dallied so long before moving on. Except he kept coming back; he never stopped trying. She pushed him away and he just continued to follow two steps behind. His innuendos had lost their edge some time ago, somehow becoming less condemning and more endearing over time too.

Emma was not entirely sure when it happened exactly, when she had seen something else in him. Probably sometime last year, to be honest, when the pirate had given her that impish look and tapped on his lips suggestively, possibly even before then; she had stopped viewing him as _Captain Hook,_ a villain from a childhood book, and saw a man instead. He reminded her of another pirate from a book though, one that actually _was_ a favorite of hers, now that she saw him as Killian Jones. He even spoke the same way at times, which stirred up childish fantasies, especially when his sea colored eyes stared at her in determination, an unwavering softness in them that implored her to just give him a chance.

Killian Jones was impossible to ignore. He was a nuisance, a rather persistent one at that, and as much as Emma was loathed to admit it, she had come to rely on his input. She had come to rely on _him._ A small part of Emma wanted to resent him for his part in all of this. She wanted to resent him for ever coming to New York to find her, for disillusioning her from her fabricated life, and for bringing her back to this place. He tried so hard to help her, but she had never asked for his help. She had been happy and now she just felt bitter that life had been taken from her, but even though he was the reason everyone knew her intention to leave, she could not find it in her to begrudge him for any of it.

Damn pirate.

“I don’t want to talk to you about this,” she said resolutely, switching off the sound and carefully tucking her now silent phone away in her jacket pocket. She could justify herself to the parents that had never raised her, to the woman that raised her son, and to the hundreds of others that she was friendly and acquainted with here, but the more Killian tried to change her mind the more she felt her conviction wavering.

“Don’t listen to me,” Killian said, coming to a stop beside the bench. “Listen to your son.” Emma pursed her lips, but turned her head to look up at him in spite of her resolve. “He thought this…” She watched him reach into the satchel at his side, her heart giving a small lurch at the sight of the familiar leather bound book. “Might remind you of what you are leaving behind. Your family.”

Killian held it outstretched in waiting patiently.

“Henry is my family,” she told him, not acknowledging the storybook any further. “And I am taking him somewhere he is safe.”

“No Swan,” he said just as decisively, the lilting accent becoming more pronounced with the insistence. “The safety-first nonsense is just that: nonsense. You are strong enough to protect the lad from anything. Youdefeated the bloody Wicked Witch.” She opened her mouth to interrupt, to remind him that Regina had been the one, but he continued on before she got the chance. “You defeated Pan... you bested Cora, not to mention me… _you_ broke the curse.” He held her gaze solidly, something resolute in his tone that made it difficult to look away. “And you keep running… what are you looking for?”

Emma answered without thinking. “Home,” she said softly.

“Home… and that’s in New York?” he questioned gently. His eyebrows rose and he shook his head without waiting for a reply. “That wasn’t real.”

“The last year was,” she reminded him.

“They were _false_ memories,” Killian contradicted with a frown, his words eerily echoing her own inner thoughts on the matter. “It was based on magical nonsense.”

“Now we have our memories back,” she countered quickly. “Now we can make it real.”

“Why can’t you do that here with your entire family?”

Emma could tell just by the look in his eyes that nothing she said was going to make him understand. _She_ barely even understood this desire to leave. She just knew that staying scared her more than facing a dragon or any other type of evil ever could, and the more she spoke to him the more she felt as though she were trying to convince herself as much as she was him. She forced herself to look away, unable to take his beseeching eyes any longer. She caught sight of the storybook once more, still outstretched to her as if in waiting of acceptance.

“Because of _this_ ,” Her words were forceful as she finally retrieved the book, staring at the embellished hard cover for a moment. This storybook had caused so many problems over the last few years. So many stories, so many _tales_ … none of them were hers though. She opened it to a random page and gestured to it. “I don’t see my family here. I see… fairytales. I see stories of princes and… princesses… pirates.” She leafed through a few more pages and shook her head, feeling nothing as her eyes soaked in the artful calligraphy and portraits. “It’s not me. I was never a part of any of this.”

“… But you could be.” Killian said assuredly, and she wondered why the pirate had so much confidence in her. He had seen her fail before; he had watched her screw up. She never handled anything with any sort of finesse, always making mistake after mistake when lives were on the line, and yet here he was daring her to throw away the remaining illusion of a normal reality and settle in to become part of the fable.

Emma did consider it. She had been weighing the pros and cons of staying here and trying to build a life for weeks now, but none of the good seemed to overshadow the growing sense of urgency deep within her that was urging her to run. She had tried settling in the past, of staying in one place. She had been so young and naïve to think that the people that she had grown to care for would actually want to keep her back then that she would stick it out until the inevitable end. She had spent her youth in a blinding hope that each new house could finally be _home_ , but it was an intangible idea that was eventually shattered by constant loneliness and disappointment.

These people… Emma was not like any of them. They came from a world of charms and enchantments, a world where were true love was the most powerful magic of all. It was something out of books and movies, and Emma might have been born to that world but she was never raised in it. Their reality was based on things that should not be possible, because Emma had been brought up to believe that magic was only possible in dreams. These people were courageous and confident, valiant and hopeful… and they had every right to be.

This was their home now. They could all try to convince her to stay, but living and fighting alongside them all for these past few years had only proven one thing. Emma was not the savior they wanted or needed and she never would be. She was still just a lost little girl trying to find a place to call home. Storybrook could never be that, not for her. She had been running for all of her life… it was hard to stop running.

Killian was still staring at her reassuringly, obviously hopeful that his words were reaching her and making her reconsider. She suddenly wanted him to understand. She _needed_ him to understand. He would never stop this pursuit otherwise, and to be honest, Emma was not certain she could continue to hold onto her resolve around him. She closed the book with a quiet snap and turned bodily to face him.

“Look,” she said, her mouth a bit dry, but she had to speak now before she changed her mind. “When I was a kid, I ran away. It’s just what I did.” He drew back slightly at her words, seemingly as surprised by the admission as she felt at actually saying it, and it was too late to take it back now. “But the first time I did it… I had the same exact thought. I wondered…” She shook her head, a pinch forming between her brows. “ _What if… I’m making a mistake? What if I miss this place?_ ”

“And did you?”

Emma averted her eyes for a moment, choosing instead to stare at the chain hanging over the vest in front of her. She had been thirteen the first time she ran away. She had not been quite as young as a few other runaways, but up until that point most of the families that fostered her had been pleasant enough. She had never wanted to run away before that point. There had been the odd few that had been a bit neglectful with attention, but had still provided a roof over her head and food in her belly. Those had been tolerable living situations until they decided they didn’t want her anymore.

“… Not the first time. Not anytime,” she amended quietly, because after that first time she had managed to slip away into the night, it barely mattered anymore what the people who were taking her in were like. She ran every chance she could, hardening her heart to each new family; she tried to escape it all, no matter how many times they caught her and brought her back so the cycle could start anew.

“So you just keep running?”

“I learned something a long time ago, Hook,” she began softly, a memory coming to her unbidden. “Home is the place, when you leave… you just _miss_ it,” She saw something akin to understanding flashed across his features and nodded. “So yeah, I’m gonna keep running until I feel that.”

“So you’re just going to leave your parents then? Don’t you even care about them?” he questioned intently. “Or anyone… in this town?”

“Of course I care,” Emma said honestly in her defense, wishing she were able to discern his tone more clearly. She knew he was probably disappointed with her answers, but she had no idea to convince him just how much she cared about everyone in this town… even _him_. She shook her head and looked away from his eyes once more, sensing the hurt there and unsure how to repair it. “But I just have to do what’s right for me and Henry—”

Emma abruptly trailed off as she caught sight of a strange orange glow her peripheral vision. She turned her head more fully to take in the whole scene, blinking in shock and confusion at the enormous pillar of light shooting straight up from the ground and into the heavens. Her thoughts suddenly redirected, any feelings or conversations decidedly suspended with this latest event.

“What the hell is that?” she asked, mystified by it.

“I have no idea…” Killian breathed out, his own confusion apparent in his voice.

Any semblance of peace was gone, replaced now with an impending sense of dread, and Emma rose determinedly to her feet as she realized the direction the light was coming from. “I’m checking this out,” she uttered, dropping the storybook onto the bench.

“Swan, wait,” he said, but she was already in motion. “Wait!”

Emma could scarcely make any sense of it, but she knew in her gut that it was coming from the abandoned ritual circle in the barn. There was no other explanation. Questions burned inside of her as she abandoned the path to maneuver through the woods to get to the old house on the hill faster. Had the wicked witch escaped from prison and found a way to enact her magic once more? A sudden thought occurred to her… did that mean the baby had been taken again? Emma increased her pace immediately, breaking into run, the thought of her baby brother being used for this ritual making her heart race.

It was already becoming dark outside, the last vestiges of sunset slowly creeping further down the horizon, which only served to make the fiery column of light more prominent in contrast. It blazed high and loud as the barn eventually came into view, the powerful light having burnt a whole through the roof, the double doors ratting in place from the energy concealed inside of the building. It was amassing the clouds above into some sort of violent storm, but otherwise the nothing else seemed to be affected by it.

Emma pulled out her phone, ready to send out a distress call to alert the others. She felt foolish upon unlocking her phone to realize just how many missed calls she had. Not just from her parents, but from Henry, Regina, and even Gold. They had all been trying to contact her since her departure from the diner earlier and like a fool she had turned off any means of reaching her. She slowed her pace reluctantly and pulled up one of the voicemails, listening as David urgently told her what everyone back in town had already deduced.

“Whatever is going on in there, it can’t be good,” Killian said as they approached, casting her a grim side glance as the doors gave another ominous rattle, a sound akin to electricity buzzing through the air.

“It’s Zelena’s time portal. David left a message,” Emma confirmed what they had both already suspected. She quickly ended the message and began putting her phone away, frowning as she concluded, “Somehow she died and trigger it.” The light above the doors shook as another surge of power exuded from the portal, and Emma swallowed her nerves and made to go inside.

“Wait,” A hand grabbed hold of her wrists before she got the chance to go very far, Killian giving her a firm pull backwards until she spun around to face him. She gave him a questioning look, but he only shook his head. “We need to get out of here.”

“Not until we find a way to close it,” she protested.

“You got your magic back?”

Emma pursed her lips. “No.”

Killian gave her an unyielding look. “Then we’re bloody well not messing with any of this,” he said, raising his voice above the noise. “Let’s go!” She nearly protested again, but the grip on her wrist was like an iron band and he was already hauling her in the opposite direction of the commotion. He was right anyway and she knew it.

With reluctance Emma prepared to follow him. They would return once someone came up with a viable plan, one that did not include walking into a barn with no magic. Unfortunately before either of them could take more than half a step, the two doors crumbled against the strain of being abused by the magic inside and slammed inward with a jarring suddenness, the hinges breaking off of one and sending it flying through the air.

Emma gasped as she felt a magnetic pull, the scorching energy sweeping her feet out from beneath her in an instant. The already snug grip on her wrist became impossibly tighter, Killian grunting as his body impacted with the unforgiving ground in parallel with her own. She twisted her hand to clasp his wrist in a similar fashion, locking their arms together as they were suddenly drawn towards the portal, the soft dirt providing little to no resistance as they frantically grappled for anything to slow their descent toward the singularity.

In an inspired move Killian raised his left arm and suddenly drove the hook deep within the earth to create an anchor, bringing them both to a sudden halt. Emma cried out as the abruptness of the move put an unnatural strain on her joints, but she reached up with her other hand and desperately sought a better grip.

“Hold on!” Killian demanded of her, and she tried, she really tried, but tendrils of crackling energy seemingly extended from the portal, curling around her ankles and gave a vicious tug. She closed her eyes against the pain, but her hold slipped slightly, fingers slackening against his wrist. He grunted and held fast with an unexpected display of strength until she was able to reclaim her grip.

Emma was uncertain what would happen. She felt the first real stirring of terror seize her throat, making it impossible to reply to the insistent command, but now was not a time for words anyway. The heat from the portal was blistering, eliciting a cry of unimaginable pain from her as it crept further up her leg, and Emma doubted that her own survival if it indeed led to the past as it was intended to. She would be burned alive by the sheer intensity.

They both would.

“… Hook,” she managed to choke out, a glossy sheen of tears filling her eyes from both pain and the rapid inflow of emotion. His face was caught in a grimace, but it shifted into pure horror at her the tone of her voice. He shook his head in denial, but Emma knew there was no way out of this. It was too late. “Killian… I…”

“Emma!” Killian said desperately. “You need to listen to me!”

The pure magical energy was too strong, inching them both toward the threshold and further to their demise, and it seemed powerful enough to sustain itself indefinitely until it served its purpose… until someone went through. She knew it in her heart that the portal would close then. She couldn’t explain it, but she just _knew_ it would expend all of the energy, and it already had ahold of her. They were both slipping slowly, but if… if she left go… maybe at least one of them would have a chance.

“Pull yourself up! Come on, love,” he pleaded. “Just try to get above the edge.”

Emma shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Damn it, Swan,” Killian snarled viciously, the undertone of desperation not masked at all by the loud curse as her fingers began to unintentionally slacken. “Don’t you dare let go! I did not outrun a second curse, barter my most prized possession, and travel across realms for you just to have you give up! You can fight this! Stop _running!_ ”

Emma drew in a pained breath and blinked back the onslaught of tears at his words. She looked up at him and nodded as best as she could. “… Okay,” she said hoarsely. She swallowed the scream that threatened to escape and curled her numb fingers back around his wrist.

Killian said something encouraging, but it was a faraway sound, distant in the way a whisper was. She clung to him and tried to pull herself out of the threshold of the portal, but something inside of Emma was interacting with the foreign force, sending little electrical charges throughout every nerve ending in her body.

“That’s it, Emma, just a bit further.” he said again. “Come back to me, love.”

Emma was already succumbing to the sensation though, her mind feeling as though it were moments away from imploding, the angry pounding of her heartbeat sending a throbbing pulse through her head. Somehow she knew that it was her own innate magic reacting to the dark magic of the time portal. It had come back within moments of being pulled to the column, filling her being almost as if it had never gone, and now Emma had no idea how to make it stop. She was on fire, her veins turning molten and her skin burning.

In a matter of seconds the magic erupted from every part of her body, manifesting physically in wisps of pure light that curled around her, and extending from every pore of her skin. The violent torrent of power joined the chaos, extending across the entire vicinity. The building around them shook, beams and walls collapsing in every direction, but Emma was beyond comprehension. It was all she could to try and keep from screaming her throat raw, the painful pulsing through her body becoming too much to tolerate.

All at once everything seemed to stop.

The battering wind eased, the building no longer seemed on the verge of collapse, and the blinding white light that had spread throughout every dark corner of the region began to ebb. It all disappeared slowly, the portal disappearing as if all of the power that manifested it were being syphoned off into the prostrate woman on the floor. The pain became slightly more bearable, to the point where her screams became quiet whimpers, though left residual tingles that made every muscle ache. It all receded back into her, the unexpected assault making black dots flash across her vision as her head spun.

The last thing Emma remembered was a worried voice calling her name.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a combination of things, but probably mostly due to the orphanage scene in Snow Drifts. The casting directors choose an excellent actress to portray young Emma; Abby Ross made her innocent, vulnerable, heartbroken, though not quite as jaded as adult Emma. As much as I thoroughly enjoyed the season finale, especially all of the Captain Swan moments and the whole ballroom scene, this… it just needed to be written. My muse wouldn't let me rest. So, I am not expecting this to be too long, probably less than ten chapters, but expect some moral dilemmas along the way, particularly from Snow. I hope everyone will enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it!


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